Liberation
by 0074
Summary: Harry shivered, but smiled as he stepped onto the sand, lifting his face to the sun. Even after almost a year, he hadn't managed to rid himself of the routine of early mornings.


**No spoilers (I am avoiding them). **

**This story had its genesis quite a while ago, and is inspired by a brief scene in a fantastic movie, _The Shawshank Redemption_. **I imagine it taking place at the end of series 10.**  
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**A big thank you to my beta reader and co-conspirator in this idea :)  
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><p>Harry shivered, but smiled as he stepped onto the sand, lifting his face to the sun. Even after almost a year, he hadn't managed to rid himself of the routine of early mornings. However these days the time was less likely to be filled with frantic phone calls and emergency meetings. Instead, he rose whenever his body woke him, pulled on a casual shirt and paint-flecked shorts, and headed for the beach. It was a short walk and he was rarely disturbed by anyone. He enjoyed the sense of peace and tranquility of the early mornings. They were the antithesis of his life before, because they gave him time for himself. Time to just be still. And time to remember her.<p>

Sometimes he allowed himself to replay the bitter-sweet last moments with her, when he lifted a hand to her face and they kissed briefly. When he said "Goodbye, Ruth," and turned and walked away without looking back. Mostly he preferred to remember all the times when her eyes sparkled at him. They were memories of a very different life though. Things had changed.

He'd changed, and he'd come to realise it was for the best. He wasn't stressed all the time. He didn't have to spend his evenings reading 'eyes only' files, and he didn't have to struggle with his conscience making life or death decisions. No longer immaculately dressed, the flecks of white that currently adorned his clothing didn't worry him. If anything, they comforted him, serving as a reminder that he'd moved on.

His days still had a routine, but it was more of the leisurely variety and didn't involve negotiating with politicians, or being woken in the dead of night to deal with a stroppy MI6 or Special Branch officer. Now he could stroll along the beach to the old boat he'd bought. It had been a wreck, practically abandoned and going for a song. Doing it up had been a kind of therapy. The hard graft of sanding back the wood by hand, preparing it, and now painting, was liberating. One more coat and he should be done. A milestone reached. He looked out to sea and pictured the boat with the sail up, heading somewhere, anywhere, far away. He liked the prospect, but wasn't ready yet. It wasn't quite time.

Walking the length of the boat as he did every morning, Harry ran his hand along the side of the smooth wood panels in a gentle caress. Digging an apple out of his pocket and taking a bite, he climbed inside and began rummaging around. Before long a bucket of paint was open and he dipped the brush in, watching as it soaked up the paint, then he set to work in a corner of the boat.

By the time the sun had fully hit its stride, Harry had progressed about half-way along the inside. He stood and carefully jumped down onto the sand, stretching his back and watching as a small white dog appeared over the sand dunes and hurtled toward him like a bullet.

"Hello, Bella. Hello, girl." He didn't mind the dog leaping all over him. She was generally placid though energetic at this time of the day, and reminded him of Scarlet, whom he missed greatly. Ruffling Bella's fur, Harry picked up a light piece of driftwood and threw it hard toward the water. Bella sped away to fetch it, returning and dropping it at his feet. He laughed, gave her another pat and threw the stick again, watching with a smile as she chased after it, unconcerned by the waves.

Shortly, a man and woman made their way slowly down the dunes.

"Morning, Harry," the man called as they got closer.

"Morning, Mark. Kate."

Mark and Kate were Bella's owners, locals who had retired to the seaside village fifteen years ago. When Harry had appeared looking for somewhere to stay, they'd directed him to the tiny flat down the lane at the bottom of their garden, which he now rented at a very reasonable rate. While he was mysterious about his background, they were welcoming, and didn't ask too many questions, which he appreciated. When they invited him to dinner, sometimes he accepted, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere, engaging conversation, and Kate's mouthwatering cooking. Much of the time he kept to himself, and they didn't seem to mind. He was grateful for their understanding, and the fact they took him at face value.

Harry's friendship was also important to Mark and Kate. They rarely got to see their son and three grandchildren who lived miles away, and as a result Kate relished treating Harry as a surrogate. Mark reveled in healthy debates with Harry. He was a former university professor with many interests, and Harry was a worthy opponent.

Harry saw Mark and Kate each morning when they went for a walk. Without fail, Bella would give him a five-minute warning that they were on their way. She loved to race ahead looking for him, and he loved her attention.

"How's the boat coming along today, Harry?"

"It's moving rather quickly actually. Another couple of hours and I should be finished the inside. I think I'll leave it at that for the day."

"Other plans?"

"Not really." He bent down and picked Bella up, cuddling her to his chest, and she licked his cheek enthusiastically. "I thought I might take a drive up the coast though. I've not been up that way for a while and I heard there's some particularly good fishing near Master's Bay."

"Oh, yes. Master's Bay is wonderful. Usually plenty of flounder, mackerel, and whiting about. Bass sometimes too."

"Excellent." He grinned. "That's the rest of my day sorted then."

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><p>Kate was in the front garden when a car pulled to halt near the gate. A woman got out and approached her with a bright face.<p>

"Hello."

"Afternoon, dear."

"Your garden's beautiful."

"Thank you. I do love the petunias, they're so colourful." Kate threw a handful of weeds onto the pile that had been steadily growing bigger beside her. "Are you on holiday?" Visitors often passed through the village, but few stopped, and even fewer tried to make conversation.

"I, er, sort of."

"Are you staying at one of the B&Bs then?"

"Oh, no, I, um, I have a hotel room in Blakeney for a couple of days, and I wanted to get out and explore a bit further afield."

"Well I'm glad you decided to stop here. Not everyone does. And it's such a lovely day for it."

"Yes, summer really does seem to have arrived doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does. Are you looking for something in particular to do while you're visiting?"

"Oh, not really. I have a friend who moved to the area a while ago. I was thinking I might call in and say hello."

"Well, I'm sure they'll appreciate it. We have a lovely man who moved in, oh, almost a year ago now. Just down there." Kate pointed down the lane with her gardening fork. "He doesn't get many visitors though. Come to to think of it, I'm not sure he's had any that I can remember. Such a shame."

"Oh?"

"He's very charming, and such a lovely smile. A quiet sort of chap, does his own thing. Just like today, he's gone off fishing. I think he's rather lonely though."

"Do you see a lot of him?"

"Oh, yes quite a bit. We always stop for a chat with him down on the beach in the mornings, my Mark and I. And he comes to dinner once or twice a week too. I do think if I didn't invite him he might not eat anything more than canned tuna." The stranger smiled broadly at Kate and she returned like with like. "And of course, our Bella just loves him."

"Bella?"

"Yes. Got him wrapped around her little paws she has. There she is." The gardening fork was turned to point at a tree by the house. Bella was curled up in a ball, asleep in the shade.

"She's cute. I can see why he would be enamoured."

"He is that, and her with him." Kate, who had been kneeling by the flower bed, stood and brushed some grass from her knees. "Well, my Mark will be after his afternoon tea. I must be getting along. Would you like something to drink?"

"Oh, no. Thank you. I should be going. It's been lovely talking to you though."

"You too, dear. Enjoy your visit."

"I will, thank you."

"Bye now."

"Bye."

Kate was soon busy inside, and didn't notice that the woman sat in her car for half an hour, staring at the lane beside the house. When Mark came outside to take Bella for a late afternoon walk, the car and its driver were nowhere to be seen.

It was after seven when Harry arrived with a cooler full of fish, and an enormously satisfied grin. After showing off his haul, he and Mark set about cleaning the fish, and Kate prepared a salad. Grilled fish was on the menu. While chopping the vegetables, Kate chattered away about her day and mentioned the stranger who was staying nearby and knew someone who had moved to the area.

"She was a lovely lady. Very friendly and with beautiful blue eyes. You know, I just realised she didn't mention where her friend lived, and I didn't ask. How silly of me, I could have given her directions."

Harry almost stopped breathing. Could it be her?

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><p>The next morning Harry set out for the beach as usual. What was unusual was the way his heart felt like it was going to beat right out of his chest. Today was the day. He was sure.<p>

He hadn't eaten breakfast, and not even brought a snack with him as was his habit. He wandered around the boat three times before reaching for the paint and brush. Even then, it was a while before he was able to concentrate and get into the rhythm of painting.

When Bella, followed by Mark and Kate, took their mid-morning walk, Harry had forged ahead and only one side of the boat remained in need of a final coat of paint. He broke off when Bella demanded his attention. And when Mark and Kate arrived they chatted for a few minutes, but Kate could see Harry was distracted, lifting his head toward the dunes every time he heard a sound. She pulled Mark away and they made for the cliff path. Bella eventually took off after them, and Harry resumed painting.

By mid afternoon, Harry was finished and tossed the brush aside, standing back to study the boat. He couldn't take as much satisfaction in it as he might have. Leaving everything where it was, he abandoned the beach and walked back over the dunes to his flat, in case she was there, but she was nowhere to be seen. He waited five minutes, downing a glass of water, before heading back to the beach.

Instead of packing away the paint and brushes, he sat down on the sand, arms loosely wrapped around his knees, and stared out at the horizon. He could have misread Kate's comments. He could be wrong. It might not have been her. But it was the right timing. It had to be her.

Standing, Harry reached for the collar of his shirt, pulling it off and discarding it on the sand. He walked out into the water until he was waist deep. Turning, he glanced back at the shore, then diving forward, he started swimming. The cool of the salt water was refreshing, and he lost himself in the effort of plowing through it.

It was half an hour before Harry returned to the boat and began to tidy up. Hearing the dull hum of a car, then the thud of a door closing, he dropped the old sheet he was holding and climbed out of the boat, nervously wiping his hands on his shorts.

He waited and watched, and finally saw a dark head rising above the dunes. It was her. She looked the same, but different, wearing dark linen trousers and a fitted blue shirt. Her hair was loose and blowing in the breeze. She looked beautiful.

Ruth felt unaccountably nervous as she walked toward him, her heart rate increasing with every step. She could see Harry standing barefoot on the sand, watching her. He looked more casual and relaxed than she'd ever seen him, exposed skin brown from the sun, and hair damp as though he'd recently been in the water. As she got closer, she saw a tiny smile grace his face and slowly get bigger. She was sure her own was mirroring it.

Even if she had wanted to, Ruth couldn't have turned back. It was like an invisible thread was pulling her forward. She stopped a couple of feet short of him, inexplicably afraid that going any further might break the spell that seemed to have them in its grasp.

"Hello, Ruth."

"Hello, Harry."

It was all they managed to say.

Harry stepped forward and reached for her hands, holding them tightly. He stared at them for a few moments, then returning his eyes to hers, leaned forward and kissed her, hesitantly at first, then with determination. Ruth wrapped her arms around Harry's neck, and he clung to her. His only thought was this was what he had been waiting for. He'd been waiting for her.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading.<strong>


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